“Do you ever put that thing down?” Isabella asked Bingo, waiting patiently for him to come to bed.
The lights were off. Bingo was naked and playing his violin in the moonlight coming through Isabella’s bedroom window. The cool night air tickled his scarred flesh and sent chills up his spine, into his fingers, and through the instrument he played.
“I can’t put Melinda away without saying good night to her first,” Bingo said.
Isabella cupped her hand on her round nose. Like most clowns, her nose must’ve been too sensitive to the cold.
“Sometimes I think you love that thing more than me,” she said.
Despite her complaints, Bingo didn’t stop playing.
“I can’t neglect Melinda,” Bingo said. “She’s a demanding woman. And awfully jealous.”
“And what about me?” The clown girl sat up on the bed and wrapped her arms around Bingo’s waist. “You don’t think I get jealous?”
Their words were almost lyrics to the music he played.
“Of a violin? That’s awfully petty, isn’t it?”
“I’ll show you how petty I can be.”
Isabella removed the violin from his fingers, cutting the music short. Then she placed the instrument gently on the dresser.
“Melinda’s not going to like that,” Bingo said. “Interrupting us mid-song? She’s going to give me hell for that later.”
Isabella kissed his neck. She had to stand on the bed to reach it. Then she pulled him back into the mattress.
“Would you sell your violin if I asked you to?” Isabella asked, digging her forehead into his chest. Her long curly yellow hair covering his face.
He blew her curls that tickled his nose. “Would you sell your cello?”
“I might. If you wanted me to.”
“I could never sell my violin,” Bingo said. “It’s worth more than I am.”
“But why don’t you sell it and get another violin? The thing’s an antique. You can get a better instrument for a small fraction of what you’d get for it. Then you’d have enough money left over to retire on.”
“Even if it was worth that much, you don’t retire in my business,” Bingo said. “Besides, I don’t want another violin. This one is mine. It called out to me. I had to work hard for it. Ten years old and I competed against some of the best musicians in the world and I won. It was destined to be in my hands, I tell you. And it’ll remain in my hands till my dying day.”
Isabella snickered at him. The clown was stubborn, even more stubborn than she was.
“If the people you work for find out how valuable it is they’ll have it taken from you in an instant.”
“I’d like to see them try. The Bozos are my family and my life, giving me work when the symphony wouldn’t give me the time of day, but if they tried something like that, I’d end the lot of them.”
“Is that even possible? Just you versus a whole mafia family?”
“I don’t know, but if they took my violin I’d sure as hell try.”